


You're an Idler's Dream and You're Singing Shangri La

by Savageandwise



Series: Love in the Time of Corona [7]
Category: Music RPF, Oasis (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Corona fic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gallaghercest | Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26110978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageandwise/pseuds/Savageandwise
Summary: "He remembered loving the idea of dreamsharing. Like you didn’t have to be in the same place to be close to someone you cared for. You didn’t even have to be in the same country."Liam dreams of Noel in Paris while on tour.
Relationships: Liam Gallagher/Debbie Gwyther, Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher
Series: Love in the Time of Corona [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747696
Comments: 15
Kudos: 40





	You're an Idler's Dream and You're Singing Shangri La

**Author's Note:**

> But Sorry this took me so long. I've been pretty stressed out with life. And demotivated about writing. Anyway. Hopefully things will speed up a bit writing-wise now!  
> Thank you to everyone who had to listen to me bitch. You know who you are.  
> I hope this is okay. Let me know?  
> Come chat with me on tumblr @savageandwise  
> I'm really sorry. I also know these chapters haven't been my best. 
> 
> Special thanks to my collab partner Jeevey! You're great. Thanks for putting up with me. I don't know how you do it.

February 21st, 2020

Once, at a party, Paul McCartney told Liam that he and John Lennon used to share dreams. 

"It's true, you know," McCartney had said, watching Liam's face with his preternaturally sharp eyes. "I was in the garden, digging these coins out with me bare hands. One after the other. And the next day John tells me he'd had the same dream."

Apparently that meant they were going to be famous songwriters and take the world by storm. Which of course they did. Liam ate that story right up. He loved mystical tales like that. He believed in destiny.

And there were other instances, too. Liam couldn't recall the exact story, but he read somewhere that even when the band was poised on the verge of breaking up, they still talked about sharing dreams. That's just how connected they were. That was true partnership, that. He remembered loving the idea of dreamsharing. Like you didn’t have to be in the same place to be close to someone you cared for. You didn’t even have to be in the same country. 

Liam woke up angry and turned on, the last remnants of his dream still clinging to him with velvet fingers. Noel above him, his mouth pressed against his ear, his fingers cutting into the corners of Liam’s mouth. He'd dreamed it a handful of times while on tour. You didn’t exactly need a degree in Psychology to figure that one out. He’d felt the ghosts of the past close on his heels with every step he took ever since they arrived in Paris. 

His relationship with Paris was a difficult one. Though in theory it was a lovely city, full of beautiful sights, loyal fans, stuffed to the gills with cool clothes, if he was perfectly honest he had seen more bad times than good ones here. Lennon and McCartney had often spoken of their special connection to Paris. Ever since twenty-one-year-old John had invited his mate away on holiday for his birthday. They’d come back sporting the famous Beatle hairstyles, full of fond memories of their time away from England before they made it big. Just two lads, going out and having fun, meeting girls.

Liam supposed he’d got it in his head at a young age that Paris might be like that for him and Noel, too. And he still treated it like that, like it meant more than almost any other city. But the truth was, this was the place it all ended. He could call it biblical all he wanted. This was the place it ended. With two smashed guitars and Noel driving away into the sunset in his Ferrari, like it was a fucking music video. 

It had taken so long to get up out from under the shadow of that tragedy. It had taken every ounce of his swagger and confidence to silence Noel’s voice in his head. The voice that said he was nothing without him. That he was bound to fail. The voice that said he’d thrown away all his chances to be loved. Liam was happy now. He had Debbie and his kids and his mam and Paul. He had his fans and his tunes. He didn’t need anyone else. He was lucky and he knew it. 

He got out of bed and went for a run, pushed himself harder than he usually did. Most days he ran just to run, not to break any big speed record, just to move. He liked meeting people when he was out running though he whinged about it incessantly. All those cunts disturbing him when he just wanted to get some exercise, but the truth was he liked it. All those different people out there, sharing little bits of their lives with him, reaching out to him and telling him how he’d made a difference to them. Today he just wanted to jog that dream out of his bloodstream. He scrubbed his hand over his ear in agitation, he could still feel Noel’s mouth there. Still whispering in his ear. _You’re nothing. You’re nothing without me._

When he got back to the hotel he went straight into the shower, washed his hair, washed his beard. Room service was just bringing up breakfast. Eggs and toast for him, hot lemon and coffee for Debbie. Debbie was on the phone arranging for someone to stock their fridge in London and making a doctor’s appointment for Liam. She wanted him to get a full check-up. The cortisone shots took their toll as well, she warned him. She was in full Guru mode, distracted by her duties and mostly ignoring his attempts to be affectionate. And of course that made him want it even more. While she paced the carpeted floor, he lay on the bed in his bathrobe, reached out to grab whatever part of her he could.

“You’re like a fucking...like a fucking dog that hasn’t been trained properly!” she said in mock exasperation as he pulled her down beside him.

“Like a dog, am I?” Liam asked, licking her cheek. 

Debbie wrinkled her nose, let out an impatient sigh and held him at arm's length. "I'm trying to work here. You know. Keep your business running."

"You're so good at it, too." 

"I am," she agreed. "That's why you're going to have to entertain yourself this morning. Relax until soundcheck."

"Why don't we relax now?" Liam asked, reaching over to unbutton her blouse. "Think how zen I'll be for the concert."

Debbie rolled her eyes at him. "You know, I think you give a better show when you've got a hard edge."

She reached down to give his cock a squeeze, taking her time about it, too, all the while grinning mischievously.

It wasn't the first time he'd heard that. He could think of someone else who used to pull down his boxers and suck him for a few tantalising seconds before wandering off to check his hair.

"See me about the rest of that after the gig," he'd say, his eyes sparking furiously. That cunt.

It was a great fucking gig. The crowd was humming, with him every step of the way. When he got off the stage Debbie was waiting with a self-satisfied expression on her face.

"What did I say?" she asked, handing him a towel. 

That's what Noel would say, too. 

After the gig they went out for drinks.They were going home the next day and then they could finally relax. Debbie was in a great mood, drinking pint after pint and telling off-colour jokes. Debbie was the only woman he'd ever known who could truly keep up with him. These days he might even have to admit she could best him with ease. Paul was there, too, with his camera. For the thousandth time that week, Liam thought about telling Paul about Noel's accidental text. When they went outside for a smoke, he finally did. 

"It was probably nothing," Paul said at once, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at the cryptic text.

"I know that," Liam said, holding out his cigarette for Paul to light. "He's receiving them, though, right? I wasn't sure the number was real."

"Maybe it's not. Maybe it's his assistant, laughing her arse off while you run off at the mouth," Paul said. "Where did you get the number from, anyhow?"

Liam grinned sheepishly. "Badgered Mam until she gave in, didn't I? I knew there was no way she didn't have it. Imagine the war that would break out over that one."

Paul took a drag off his cigarette and slowly exhaled. "I have it, too."

"Bod, you lying cunt!" Liam exclaimed. Paul winced at the old nickname but remained silent. "You had it the whole time? Fucking telling me you would give it me if you fucking had it…"

"What would have been the point?" Paul asked, running a hand through his thick silver hair. "It's better like this. If he ever finds out the truth he's not likely to stay angry at Ma long, is he? Not that long. I'm surprised he hasn't changed it, what with you probably texting him every hour on the hour."

He had some fair points, Paul did. His own relationship with Noel was fragile at best, he was better off staying out of it. Bad enough he went on tour with Liam, allowed them to interview him for the documentary. Bad enough he made snarky comments about the middle Gallagher on Instagram when the mood took him. Officially Paul and Noel were still mates, unofficially…  
"We're not not talking," that's what Molly said about her uncle. "And I'm not the one doing the not talking."

"I don't text him every hour," Liam said sulkily.

"What does Debs say about it? She tell you to leave it be?"

Liam didn't answer. He often wondered if Paul knew anything about his thing with Noel, if he'd seen anything when they were all living in each other's pockets. He had always thought they'd been very crafty about it but now, decades later, he realised they'd been fucking idiots. Maybe Paul knew more than he let on. Liam hoped to fuck if he did know anything, he'd take it to his grave.

"You didn't tell Debbie, did you?" Paul asked, shaking his head and folding his arms over his chest with a sigh.

"I told her about the number, didn't I? Told her I texted him when the mood took me. I haven't gotten around to mentioning the accidental text."

"Moron."

"Thought you're on my side," Liam said in a small voice. "Thought you agreed he was taking the piss…"

"Yeah, no. I am. I do. Only...He's not worth the energy you put into him."

Paul rocked on his heels, looking at Liam the way he always did, like there was more to be said but he couldn't be arsed to say it.

"I don't put energy into him, me. I don't give a fuck he never replies properly," Liam protested. That was a bald-faced lie.

"Good. Concentrate on the good things in life. Cause he's never going to admit he made a mistake. He's never coming back, you know?"

Liam shrugged awkwardly. "I know," he said at last. "I know it."

Paul nodded and discarded his cigarette stub, headed back inside where it was warm and the beer was good, leaving Liam alone with his thoughts. He took out his phone, played with the idea of texting Noel yet again and then thought better of it. Fucking Paris. Messing with his peace of mind.

He woke up still drunk at four in the morning. He'd been dreaming of Noel's hand over his mouth, smothering him again. Noel's mouth against his ear, whispering. Debbie's arm was slung over him. He rolled out from under her carefully and grabbed his phone, a bottle of water and a parka and went out onto the balcony. 

After the end, after Noel had left him high and dry, Liam got drunk every night. And every night he'd dream Noel came crawling back. Every night he'd dream him back into his bed. He'd dream Noel soft, pliant in his arms, he'd dream his mouth, he'd dream his smell. He could just about talk himself out of feeling sad he'd lost his brother. He could just about forgive the loss of his band. He couldn't shut out the dreams. Even now, over a decade later.

It was funny how break ups worked. He couldn't really recall the last time he slept with Patsy before she left him, or Nic. You don't usually think to memorise the moment. You don't know it's going to be the last time. The last time with Noel was after the Paris split. After Noel posted his midnight announcement that he could no longer work with Liam. After Liam formed Beady Eye. After the massive drunken rants, all the time lost to drug excesses and miserable hangovers. 

Back in London, it had suddenly struck him he hadn't just lost a bandmate, a guitarist, a songwriter. He'd lost his brother. He'd lost Noel. It had taken Liam ages to get him to agree to meet at a cafe round the corner from Noel's house. He just wanted to see him. He just wanted to look into his eyes. That would be enough, he reckoned. He'd know where he stood. 

They sat outside under an umbrella in the sun so they could smoke. He promised himself he wasn't going to lose it, and for the first few minutes they did alright. They talked about football and their kids. They laughed and it was okay, they were brothers again. Filled with daring, Liam plucked the cigarette carton from Noel's hand, let his thumb skate over Noel's knuckles for a split second before he shook out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth. Noel sucked in his breath shakily. And then, like an idiot, Liam mentioned the band and he could see him close up like one of those plants that reacted to being touched. And Liam completely lost his composure. Of course he did. It's what he always did when Noel wouldn't let him in. He spewed abuse, found the sore spots and dug the knife in deep. 

Finally Noel took out his wallet and pulled out a tenner, laid it down on the table and rose. "Enough," he said softly and looked into Liam's eyes. He looked like he was trying to make a decision he didn't want to make.

"What's enough?" Liam asked. "Enough of what?"

And there it was, that unmistakable expression stamped on Noel's face. Liam felt his stomach flip. He waited a moment, just sat there motionless, unbelieving. Then Noel walked away. 

For a moment Liam told himself he didn't have to follow him. He could stay here, order a beer or he could go home and cry about it. Maybe he wasn't even supposed to follow him. Then his feet started moving of their own accord like he was Noel's puppet. Noel only had to crook his finger and Liam would come running, like the saddest lovesick cunt that ever was. He was still Noel's bitch. Liam trotted behind Noel for ages though he could have easily caught up to him. Noel didn't turn around once. At the end of the street Noel paused and lit a cigarette. He was waiting for him after all. He tilted his head towards Liam the way he'd done a hundred thousand times before. A hundred thousand impatient glares, a hundred thousand annoyed sighs. Hurry up, then. That was the look. Keep up. Noel would never stop seeing him as his pain-in-the-arse younger brother no matter what happened. 

They walked the rest of the way to Noel's house side by side. Liam could feel all the questions bubbling their way out of him, but he forced himself to swallow them down. The house was dead quiet. 

"Sara and Donovan?" Liam asked, belatedly worried he'd misread Noel's look.

"Scotland." Noel said shortly.

He set his keys down on the sideboard in the hall and kept walking purposefully with Liam close behind him. They were going to the bedroom, he realised at once. Noel was taking him straight to bed. At first he hung back at the doorway, just staring at the bed. Generally he wouldn't think a thing of it, but after what had just happened between them in Paris he couldn't help wonder what Noel was playing at. The sheets were fresh, royal blue and cream. It looked like a bed in one of those magazines. Liam felt a spasm of lust deep in his belly. Noel wanted him here, in the bed he shared with his missus.

Noel started to unbutton his shirt, just undoing the buttons unhurriedly like he was getting ready to go to sleep.

"What…" Liam began. He sat down on the edge of the bed awkwardly, watched Noel strip off his shirt. "...what are you doing?"

"You know," Noel said simply, opening his belt.

Liam lifted the hem of his T-shirt and then let his hands fall. "I thought…" he said weakly. He didn't know what he thought. He didn't understand what Noel was thinking. They hadn't been intimate regularly in the last few years. In fact, he couldn't recall when the last time was. Three months ago? Four? Alcohol had been involved and a physical altercation over some nonsense.

"Don't think. Get your clobber off," Noel said. His voice was almost gentle. Liam wondered if this was an apology.

Liam pulled his top over his head hesitantly. It felt strange to be in Sara's room half naked and aroused. He'd never bothered to waste too much time analysing his relationship with Noel, more precisely the wrongness of it. But being here seemed to drive it home: he's my brother. I shouldn't want him like this. Liam folded the T-shirt and placed it on the bed beside him. Noel stepped into the space between Liam's wide-spread legs, ran his hands over his chest. He was his brother and it was wrong to want him. Liam did want him, though, and Noel wanted Liam. That part was still true.

Liam hooked his fingers into the belt loops on Noel's trousers, pulled him closer and pressed his head to Noel's belly. Noel's fingers were tight in his hair. He pushed Liam back against the mattress and climbed on top of him. The room was spinning. He slid his hands up Noel's chest, over his shoulders, rubbed his thumbs against his jaw. Liam couldn't quite catch his breath. His chest hurt and his eyes stung but he wasn't crying. He wasn't, why would he?

Noel was looking down at him with that terrible tender look on his face. He rubbed his mouth against Liam's and sighed. Then he kissed him, close-mouthed at first, again and again, like he was working himself up to it. Liam opened his mouth and slid his tongue against Noel's with unchecked greed. Why does this feel so good? He wondered. Why does it never lose its magic?

"Fuck," Noel breathed. He worked his hands between them to open Liam's trousers. "I don't know...I don't know…" he said brokenly, like he could read Liam's mind.

Reluctant to stop kissing, they struggled out of the rest of their clothes clumsily. Noel's elbow caught him in the ribs and he cried out in pain. His cry seemed to spur Noel on. Groaning, he rubbed against Liam, raked his fingernails down his sides, sucked on his collarbone. Liam knew he ought to stop him before he left a mark but it just felt too good. He reached down and wrapped his hand around Noel's stiff cock. Noel's reaction was almost violent. He spasmed, his breath huffing out as if in shock. He reached up to stroke Liam's face awkwardly, his thumb stabbing the corner of his eye accidentally. Liam squeezed his eyes shut but didn't stop touching him.

When Liam let go of Noel's cock and grabbed hold of his hips, Noel whined piteously. He snaked downwards, took the head of Noel's cock in his mouth tenderly and Noel curled forward like a gecko, pressed his mouth to Liam's head. He'd barely worked up a rhythm when Noel stopped him, pushing him away with both hands. This was it, he thought, he's changed his mind. And wasn't that just like Noel, too? Wasn't it always his terms or nothing? Noel might be able to split up his band, Liam thought, but he didn't get to call the shots in bed. He pushed his face into Noel's groin blindly, opened his mouth wide to receive his dick. He sucked hard, his teeth scraping the delicate skin. Noel pushed him away again, scrambled away on all fours, panting. 

"No," he gasped. "No...I need...let me...Liam…"

A wave of longing and fear and affection washed over Liam like the tide coming in. He let Noel take him in his arms and hold him so hard it hurt, like he wanted to squeeze the breath from him. Then he pushed Liam down into the mattress, face down. His hand was heavy on Liam's neck. He could break it if he really wanted to, Liam thought abruptly. He groaned into the coverlet. Noel's hand trembled against the back of his neck, he pulled away for a moment to dig in the bedside drawer, and then he felt the cool lube against his hole, Noel's fingers rubbing at him, digging into him. He struggled against him briefly. It hurt, he wanted to cry out, but he bit his lip. Then Noel fell against him, his breath shaky in his ear.

"Liam," he murmured, like he was testing the name out. Like he was saying it for the first time instead of the billionth. 

He shoved up into Liam without further ceremony, his hands pinning him down like he wanted to smother him. He pulled out briefly, more cold gel, his fingernails biting into Liam's skin. Come back to me, Liam thought just before Noel thrust again. He could feel all that rage and helplessness in that graceless thrust. He cried out, the noise muffled by the mattress. 

The pain was intense, thrilling. The pain was proof Noel needed him. In Liam's head it was all tangled up with the pleasure. In his desperation, Noel was brutal, crude, sloppy, out of sync. And it was glorious. He drove hard into Liam and then held back for a few moments of horrible, awkward tenderness. 

"Am I hurting you?" He whispered into Liam's ear. 

You've got to be kidding me, Liam thought to himself. Of course you are. Wasn't that the point? Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He shook his head. I love you, he gasped into the damp sheets. I love you. He pushed up to meet Noel despite the pain or maybe riding on the crest of the pain. At last Noel slumped against him, his breath escaping him in an anguished rush. Their skin, though slick with sweat, seemed to have fused together in places. Noel shivered, his hands tightening around Liam's shoulders, and then his head lolled hard against the back of Liam's neck. Liam's heart was hammering so fast he was dizzy with it. He could feel Noel's lips against the hair at the nape of his neck forming words he couldn't hear.

It was afternoon when Liam woke up to the sound of an alarm clock buzzing. He stabbed at the snooze button blindly before opening his eyes. For a horrible moment he couldn't recall where he was and then, all at once, he knew. He was at Noel's gaff. Every part of him hurt. Bruises bloomed on both his arms. The sheets smelled like sex. There was a note propped against the clock, Liam's name scrawled across it in Noel's boxy handwriting. 

_Time to get up, sleepy head._ _I've gone to the shops please see yourself out. The cleaner will be in at five see that you're gone by then.  
N. x_

Liam read the note twice and crushed it in his fist. Then he smoothed it open and folded it into a small square. He pulled on his clothes with haste and tucked the note into the backpocket of his trousers.

The truth was, he thought it meant things were good again. So Noel left the band. He'd left before. He'd left Liam before. He'd always come back, hadn't he? He'd never changed his phone number before. He'd never had Sara tell him he couldn't have it because Noel had nothing to say to him. Liam had never been completely without Noel before. Never in thirty-seven years. It took him a few years to realise this was his new reality. The divorce from Nic wasn't half as messy as the split from Noel. Eleven years on and Noel hadn't let up. In fact, he seemed angrier than ever. It was like Paul said, he was never coming back. Liam just had to get used to it.

He slid down to sit on the cold balcony floor, leaned his head against the sliding door. He shuddered in spite of himself. The problem was those dreams. Those vivid dreams of the past. And Noel was out there dreaming of him, too. He could feel it. What nobody understood was that it wasn't in his power to just let go. He couldn't let go any more than he could sever his own arm. Noel was in his bloodstream, a slow working poison, spreading to every part of him. And it was mutual. No matter what Noel said in interviews, no matter what he told himself.

Finally, Liam turned his attention back to his phone and typed up a text.

_dreamed of you. you to? you were the 1 moaning to bring the fucking house down but you put your hand over my mouth n told me to shut my flap._

When it was sent he flipped the phone over, like it was less real if he couldn't see it. Like he hadn't just begged Noel to come back yet again.


End file.
